


Kindred

by hearteyesforkillmonger



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearteyesforkillmonger/pseuds/hearteyesforkillmonger
Summary: Despite her struggles, the reader has persevered to be where she is in life. This is the story all about how her worldview got flipped upside down. And it starts with Killmonger.





	1. Chapter 1

“I cannot take her anymore, Brit, she is annoying and weird as hell!”

“Your roommate?” There were clothes all over the bed as Brit was picking out an outfit to wear out on her date with her new boo, Erik. You’d never met him but you hoped to meet or at least see him when he came for Brit. She held a lilac bodycon dress with matching choker and a blue Wild Thots dress in her hands. You pointed to the blue.

“Yes! She never cleans anything and then she’s always using my stuff, I can’t deal with this triflin shit, Brit. She wore my damn underwear and then ain’t wash it..” Brit’s face twisted in disgust. “Oh no she’d have to go.”

“Yes and they had discharge or some shit I don’t even want to know, I threw them away.. Wear the hoops.”

“That’s nasty as hell…I told you last time you could move in here with me, but nooo, you stubborn.”

She grabs the dress and heads down the hall for the bathroom to freshen up leaving you cross-legged on her bed. You check your phone until she comes back twenty minutes later.

“OOH girl you look like Riri! Skin like butter!”

Brit twirls and the dress floats gently in the air falling to a resting state. She truly does look amazing.

“So you really wouldn’t mind me staying with you?”    

Brit narrows her eyes, “If I minded I wouldn’t offer.”

Fair enough. You fight the urge to look around having already been to through the house dozens of times in the few years you’ve known her.

“Can I move in tomorrow?” you ask trying to leave your apartment as quickly as possible.

“As far as I’m concerned you already live here.. Now focus, which shoes should I wear?”

–

The doorbell rings and Brit strides to the door pausing to adjust her boobs.

“Perfect,” you whisper from your comfortable position on the couch.

The door cracks open and you hear Brit’s silken voice feigning annoyance, “You’re late,” she admonishes. A deep honey maple voice from the other side of the door replies, “I know.” You’re staring at the door now, genuinely intrigued. Silence fills the space as some unnamed electricity passes between Brit and the honey maple voiced man. Brit lightly pulls the door and stands to the side, hand on hip, as it falls open. You gasp as you see how well the voice fits the face. A tall brown skin man with smooth yet intense features and short locs falling over his eyes saunters through the door. His dark eyes are locked on Brit’s figure. “You like what you see?” She smirks and suddenly you feel like you’re intruding on something that has the potential to get really spicy. You move as silently as you can from the couch and pad with your bare feet to the second bedroom currently used for storage. You press your ear to the door fast, but their voices are low and for a while you can’t hear anything else being said. But suddenly you hear a low giggle, a quick shuffle, and a door slam. You wait a few seconds before peeping through the door. The coast is clear and you run to the window in the living room to catch a glimpse of them leaving. There’s an expensive looking yellow car in the driveway but no Brit. You hear a loud creak followed by a breathy moan coming from your right and now you know you were right to disappear. You pad silently and slowly to Brit’s bedroom door, careful to leave distance.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack.

You hear what sounds like grunts and the moans are only getting louder and more desperate. You feel your face heat and you pad back, quickly this time, to the second bedroom where you spend the next forty minutes sitting on the floor switching between apps on your phone. Suddenly you hear a door slam and scuttle to your knees to press your ear against the door. Silence. You stand and pause with your hand on the doorknob for a few seconds before twisting it to peep out. The coast is clear. You quickly pad from the room to the living room to peek out the window again. The yellow car is gone, they must’ve left. Brit’s door is closed and you stride over to open it. It probably needs to be aired out, you smirk. You push the door and your entire body freezes and ices over. Time seems to freeze and your throat dries as your mind attempts to take in the deep crimson pool forming next to the limp body of your best friend. Your feet stutter backward, unsteadily, and your back collides with something that was not there before sending a harsh chill through your spine. You lunge forward and spin to see Erik towering over you, eyes darker than before. His eyes bore through yours and you try to speak but your voice and your breath is lost. You are shaking when you look down to see a gun in Erik’s hand as it flies at the top of your head in a flash that sends hot pain crashing through your skull. You fall to your knees and then the ground and unable to think or comprehend anything that just happened, you black out.

—

“Open your eyes,” commands a familiar voice. Your head is throbbing and you’re in complete hazy darkness. You start retracing what could have happened to bring this much pain and the memories come crashing back. Your chest feels like it’s going to burst overpowering your headache. “Open your eyes, I won’t say it again,” the voice interjects. Your lids slowly part and the darkness begins to fade, but the haze remains. You feel hot tears stinging as they run down the side of your face and you realize not only are you on your side with your left cheek and hip pressed against a cold, dirty, grey floor but your hands are tied behind you.

“Ngubani igama lakho?”

Your eyes dart around the room taking in anything that might tell you where you are. Paint cans, power tools, wooden walls, it looks like you’re in a garage or maybe an attic. Your eyes fall on the pair of black boots now in the center of your vision and the voice repeats, more sternly this time, “Ngubani igama lakho?” Your eyes snap to meet the glare of the man with short locks falling over his eyes. The man who’d just murdered your best friend in cold blood. You know you’re probably next and honestly you just want to get it over with. You’d be more terrified if you weren’t in so much pain physically and emotionally. Your head throbs and you wince. Erik kneels by your chest and firmly grips your chin forcing you to make eye contact. Fear grips you at the same time, revoking your previous thoughts as insanity. He sees the fear in your glossy red eyes, now wide in terror.

“Tears don’t move me sweetheart,” he quips seemingly unphased by the situation.

He tightens his grip on your jaw, enough for it to become uncomfortable but not enough to really hurt, “This the last time I’m a ask you then we’re gonna have a problem. Ngubani igama lakho?”

“What?” You croak genuinely confused before “Y/N” comes flying from your lips.

“Uyakhumbula ntoni na?”

“Why did you do it? Why did you kill her?” Your voice shakes as your once silent cries gain sound. The noises bursting from the deep of your gut are of pure sadness and loss. Erik lets your face go and faces away but he doesn’t move and for what feels like an hour you cry until you can’t anymore. Then for a while, there’s nothing but the sounds of your shuddered breathing in the air.

Finally, there’s silence. The silence rolls on as you lay motionless.

Suddenly Erik speaks, “Calm down,” his tone is low and even and his eyes return to yours. The darkness is gone from them and he looks calm, a little sad even. “Y/N… Breathe.”

You make no move and he reaches over your hips to pull a rope, freeing your wrists before falling backward into a sitting position, knee up with elbow resting on top. You slowly move your arms forward to help you push up from the ground to an upright position across from him. You feel Erik staring at you, but you don’t make eye contact again. You just want to know why he did it. “You seemed.. so taken with her.. and I know she was a good person. She was good to you, so why did you.. How could..” You sigh, “Why would you do that?” Your voice is surprisingly even, matching Erik’s.

Silence stretches between the two of you as you wait for some explanation or attempt at justification.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he pauses so long that you have to look up. His eyes are trained on yours but again, there’s no darkness there. It seems that’s been replaced by curiosity.

“You tell me why you can speak Xhosa and I’ll tell you what you wanna know.”

You stare into his eyes analyzing his mood until you’re content that he won’t lash out and choke you. “My dad…” You trail off and you can see he’s waiting for more of an explanation. “My dad was from.. Africa..”

“What country?”

You pause. Your dad would always tell you colorful tales about a place called Wakanda when you asked where he was from, but you never knew the truth of his origin. Wakanda wasn’t real.

Unsure of yourself and your response, you shrug. “I don’t know, he never told me..,” you hesitate to continue, not sure you want to share this information with your potential murderer. He notices your hesitation and waits. Now you have to say something.

“My dad… would always talk about a place called.. Wakanda.” You look at Erik and his face gives nothing away. “That’s all I know, just fairy tales.”

More silence.

“Please answer my question,” you whisper, staring at the string of his black hoodie to avoid being caught in his intense gaze. He reaches out slowly and tilts your chin up with his thick index and despite your efforts you’re now looking dead into his searching eyes.

“Your name is Y/N.” He pauses. “Your father’s name… was J'Kobi. He was a War Dog for Wakanda… He had a blue tattoo on his inner bottom lip. One like this,” he pulls down his bottom lip to reveal a tattoo identical to the one of your late father. Your eyes get big and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He releases and then licks his full bottom lip. “You were told he died of a heart attack while you were at school… but nah. He was murdered.” Your chest clenches. You don’t know if you should believe him and you don’t want to. But he continues, “He was murdered for the same reason my father was murdered and by the same people… His own people. Wakandans.” He spits it like a curse, but there’s still sadness in his eyes. “Then they left you here, like nothing… to go from foster home to foster home. But you made something of yourself without anyone’s help. You graduated. You got into college. Then you got into grad school.” You feel the hot tears running down your cheek again. You didn’t think you could cry anymore. “You met Brit your second year of college. Her real name was Yolanda but to those in the know, she was The Reaper. In my line of work she was also my target.” He shrugs. You look off trying to piece together and absorb everything he just told you. He tilts his head catching your eye again. “Don’t miss her too much now, she was gonna kill you to harvest your organs sooner or later. Kind of her thing.” You choke on saliva as your hand flies to your chest. His eyebrow raises, eyes flickering. He gives you a moment to process everything he’s said and he continues. “When I took the mission to eliminate her, it involved looking into you along with a few others she was close to. Imagine my surprise when I realized you and I were so similar and you still had no idea.” He smirks, “Wild ain’t it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So tell me, what’s your biggest question now?”

Your head is swimming with all of this new information filling empty holes in your memory, creating new thoughts and feelings. It’s too much at once and you grab your head as if you can force the thoughts to quiet by squeezing. You start massaging your own temples trying to calm yourself. If this man is telling the truth, and it sounds like he knows too much not to be, then not only was your dad murdered all those years ago with no justice, and not only were you abandoned by a country you didn’t know existed, but you also almost died by the hand of someone you considered to be your very best friend. “My whole life is a lie,” you murmer, dazed.

“Nah only most of it,” Erik sighs standing to his feet in one lithe motion, dusting off his pants. Again the thoughts swirl in your brain. You’re emotionally drained, too tired to go through any more shocking revelations or emotional fluctuations. You push everything you’re feeling down and breathe. In.. out.. In.. out..

“That’s it?” He sounds mildly disappointed. You find your feet underneath you and push off the grey ground so that you too are standing. You start to speak, but think better of it. Then you realize there’s one big question you ought to ask, a question that won’t trigger you emotionally.

“Where am I?”

He pulls a keyring from his hoodie pocket and unlocks the white door behind him, pushing it open. You were in a garage afterall. He steps into the adjoining room and disappears. You’re hesitant to follow.

“Get ya ass in the house,” you hear him snap. You shuffle through the door and follow him through the laundry room, into a short hall leading to a den with rustic decor. To your right was a bar that seemed to be fully stocked and to the left, two large leather sectionals, a large stone coffee table and an entertainment system. He waves you over to the sectional closest to the right and you take a seat. “Do you want a drink?”

You shake your head no and he joins you on the couch. He slides his hand through his locs before stretching loudly and reclining back, sinking into the cushion of the sectional. His eyes fall closed. He exhales and his chest slowly falls. You avert your gaze not wanting to stare at this beautiful but dangerous creature. “You’ll sleep here tonight,” it blurts.

“Where’s here?”

“My home away from home,” he mutters, eyes closed.

“Are we still in Petersburgh?” God knows how long you were unconscious.. you’d never been knocked out before. He doesn’t answer. “Are we still in Virginia?” Still nothing. You sigh, “How long am I supposed to be here?”

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Erik slowly moves to his feet and disappears into the hall. You look around without getting up. One exit, the hall he left through. No windows. Looks like he still doesn’t trust you. You check your clothes for your phone. You still have on the same black t-shirt and the same denim shorts with no shoes. You don’t feel ‘strange’ down there, so you take it there was no funny business while you were unconscious. That’s good. However, your phone, ID, and your cash is missing. You sigh and your stomach rumbles loudly as Erik re-enters with two big blankets. He drops one on the left couch and tosses one at you. He then heads to the bar where he bends to open what sounds like a trunk or..

He pulls out two bottles of water… a mini fridge.

“I ain’t got no food down here, just liquor..” He pauses, hesitating. He looks back at you as if he’s still searching for something. “Where’s your head at,” he barks.

“I’m trying not to think too much,” you murmer, “you know, with all the trauma,” you wave at nothing in particular and face the giant black flat screen to your right. In a few seconds, Erik is beside you on the couch offering you a cold water bottle. You take it.

“Drink,” he commands as he takes a swig of his own and twists the cap back on. You look at him. His eyes are still questioning yours. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” You snap a bit louder than you intend, surprising yourself. His eyebrows raise and he scoffs, “I think the shock’s wearing off now.” You glare at him, returning his stare. He doesn’t blink and neither do you. This has become a challenge and like in the animal kingdom, you’re fighting for some type of control despite the sharp turn your life has taken. He turns his body into the couch to face you and rests his arm across the top, face inches away from yours. Your lip twitches in annoyance and humor filters into his eyes.

“This is the longest you’ve looked at me since I walked into that house to fuck up ya girl,” you notice a glint of something metallic in his mouth, and your breathing hitches. The corner of his mouth briefly twitches upward. Since he’s in such a playful mood, you decide to be bold. “Interesting that you’d fuck her before killing her,” you look up accusingly meeting his gaze. He smirks. “I’m not going to kill you if that’s what you’re asking.” You realize then that you lost the staring match by staring at his lips and you want to smack yourself. Your stomach grumbles again and he smacks your thigh. It jiggles. “Let’s get you something to eat before your body starts eating itself.” He hops up and heads to the hall. This time you follow.

–

The large kitchen is spotless and there are pans hanging from the ceiling. You spot a pizza oven, a legit, real pizza oven. “You must cook a lot,” you inquire as you rest on a tall bar stool with your elbows on the island before you.

“I guess,” Erik mumbles with his back to you. He’s at the stove frying omelettes and bacon. You look at the time. It’s almost 2 AM. Finally, he places two plates of food on the island and sits on the stool beside you. You’re so hungry you all but lunge at the food on your plate and when you’re chewing your last bite you look up for the first time. He’s staring at you in mock disgust, plate untouched. You’re actually embarrassed. He slides his plate in front of you and takes your plate to clean it. You demolish that plate too, chasing it with the water you were given earlier. “About your earlier question?” Erik looks up briefly before grabbing the second plate to wash, “I can’t keep you too long, you’d eat me out of house and home.” You gasp. Was that a fat joke? You knew you were a little chubby and you liked to eat, but was that so bad? “Well according to you, you have alternative housing options anyway so what’s it matter?” He exhales a sharp breath and you realize he’s laughing at you. “You right,” he chuckles lightly, “guess I can keep you with me a little bit longer.” He turns to you and smiles mischievously as he dries his hands on a towel and you realize you’ve been played.

“That’s not what I meant, I want to go home,” you press, not completely sold on your own assertion. “Mhm,” he grunts as he returns to your side of the island, spinning your stool until you’re face to face and planting a hand on either side of you. “Home where?” He rests his forehead against yours and you’re suddenly insecure about your breath. His piercing brown eyes go so deep and for a second you allow yourself to get lost. His low, smooth voice brings you back.

“You’re staying here,” he moves his head but before you can miss his warmth, he plucks you hard in the center of your forehead. “Ow!” You lunge in protest and try to return it. He grabs your wrist and presses you firmly back into your seat. “You’re staying here and you’re gonna eat all my damn food. Then maybe if you’re good I’ll let you eat one of the couches,” he muses. You squint in full mocking sarcasm. He grins flashing the golden caps on his teeth hinted at earlier and kisses the inner wrist that’s caught in his grip before allowing you to snatch it away. You feel your pussy pulse and immediately know you’re in danger and not just of being murdered. You’d be damned if you succumbed to Stockholm’s syndrome, especially this early in the game. You still have trauma you haven’t dealt with and tons of things to unpack. He watches your face as you attempt to become more distant. He laughs, openly, loudly, niggerishly, and you’re low-key offended.

“I’m tryna be sensitive and shit right now but it’s obvious you wanna fuck me and you’re going through some mental battle. Just let me know what you decide.” He sits on the stool beside you again and observes you, humor all through his handsome face, unhidden now. Your face heats and you jump to your feet, stonefaced, “I gotta pee.” “Down the hall to your left,” he gestures and you feel his eyes on you as you exit.

–

You’re staring in the bathroom mirror at your disheveled reflection. Your bantu knotout has frizzed and you have dust smudges on your face. You’re glad you weren’t wearing makeup or you’d look like a complete clown thanks to all that crying earlier. You dial down some of the damage to your appearance and drop the toilet lid, sitting to collect yourself. Maybe now where there’s some privacy you can think and allow yourself to feel some of the emotions you’d been holding back.. and suddenly, it’s like a dam has broken. The tears return. You recall your father’s warm hugs and animated accounts of antics and experiences in the beautiful land of Wakanda. A land where blackness reigns supreme and every black person could find their Eden. He’d talk about bringing Wakanda to black people all over the world. “One day I’ll bring it to you and you’ll drink in freedoms only dreamt about. I’ll make it real.” He used to say this and you didn’t fully understand what he meant, but you’d smile anyway because he was so passionate. Sitting here now, you bet Erik could explain exactly what that meant. He said that you two were similar and that he’d lost his dad the same way you’d lost yours. You decide you’ll ask him when you go back out. For now, you appreciate this small amount of privacy.


	3. Chapter 3

The walk back to the kitchen is longer as you meander your way through the hall, grazing the walls with your fingertips. You exhale deeply, turning the corner into the kitchen and pause at the entrance. There is Erik, on the stool where you left him, scrolling through your phone.

You fly at him. “WHOA WHOA WHOA! NO. What you’re not gonna do is disrespect my privacy like that,” you swipe at the phone and he dodges. “How many niggas you got in your phone.. I deleted 3.”

“NIGGA!” You lunge and miss as he spins away. “4.” You lunge again and he uses his height advantage to raise the phone high out of your range. “Some of those are work contacts I need those numbers!” You jump but give up and kick his kneecap. His body twitches, but he doesn’t fall. He hops away from you in a long stride. “I know your work contacts, these is niggas. Ol’ wyd ass niggas.. and you got a blog dedicated to how lonely you are,” he tsks. You’re livid now. “GIMME MY DAMN PHONE.” You screamed loud enough for there to be a slight echo. His entire body freezes throwing you a look that would your chill your bones if you weren’t so damn angry. You step forward unintimidated, “NOW.” Your heart is pounding in your ears and your adrenaline is pumping. For the longest while, Erik regards you, glare meeting glare. Finally, he extends the phone in your direction and you wait, testing his sincerity. You snatch at it and he snatches it backward out of your reach. “Headass.. ask me nicely.” Your hand flies to your forehead as your jaw tenses and your teeth grit.

“I can’t hear you,” he switches on your phone again, punching in your password. Of course he’d guess that it was your birthday. “Erik,” you warn quietly, not really sure of what you could do to him but aching to try something. “Y/N,” he mocks. Childish af. You walk back through the kitchen and spot a display of kitchen knives, pulling a large one, you walk straight up to Erik and place it at his throat. “If looks could kill,” he smirks seemingly unphased. You snatch for the phone with your free hand and he moves it again causing you to accidentally draw blood from his neck. It’s a small amount, but he catches the split second of shock and regret as it briefly flashes in your eyes and uses that moment to snatch the blade, throwing it across the floor. You hear it skid. “Give me my phone,” you repeat.

“You cut me.”

“Give me my phone.”

“You cut me.”

“Give me my phone.”

He hesitates before handing you your phone. He doesn’t snatch it back. You immediately start deleting personal shit.

“Oh what you deleting nudes now?.. I already sent those to myself.” You check your messages and see a bunch of attachments sent to a new contact: Erik 🍆👀

“Motherfucker….,” you gasp. “Yo you got a filthy mouth for a female.” You want to scream at this extreme violation and punch him for calling you a ‘female’. What comes out is a disturbing laugh, “Well you’re just as full of shit as I’D expect an asshole to be!” His mouth forms an O before turning into another lopsided smirk and his eyebrows raise. “You know you in MY house at MY mercy right?” He snatches the phone back. Something in you snaps.

“Fuck your house! And I’m getting away from your creepy ass the first chance I get!”

“Your ass could’ve BEEN gone, I ain’t follow you out to the bathroom. I know you saw them stairs. Door was RIGHT there. I left you in the man cave for a good minute and you ain’t leave?” He gets in your face now. “You ain’t call 911 when you got your phone?” He looks you up and down incredulously, “Bitch, you wanna be here.”

You don’t know what bold spirit from beyond the grave possesses you, but your fist flies and you punch Erik hard across the jaw with every ounce of strength you have. Your thumb aches. His face snaps to side from the impact. You shake out your hand and wince. Wow.. it really does ache… but man, did that feel good. You should’ve done that a long time ago.

You look up at him and he’s rubbing his jaw. Suddenly you’re on cloud 9. “I gotta teach you how to throw a decent punch,” Erik interjects your silent victory celebration.

“Fuck you. Don’t act like you didn’t feel that.”

“Your hand hurts like that because you’re supposed to keep your thumb outside of your fist. Like this…” he makes a fist and the veins in his wrist move. “Put your thumb between your first and second knuckles on your index and middle finger.” You roll your eyes, but copy his example. He doesn’t touch you.

“Align your wrist with your forearm… Yeah, like that. Hands up and left foot forward, elbows resting on your rib cage and your chin tucked… Yep, like that. Aight now put your weight on the ball of your back foot for balance so you can spring–” He throws a slow mock punch, “Like that. Right hand straight forward… Go.” He holds up his large hand and you throw a punch at it. “There you go. Again.” You throw a couple more punches and it already feels better. “One more,” he lowers his face and points to his chin, “Right there.” You hesitate.. “You can’t hesitate when you’re out there and somebody’s trying you, you gotta swing first and ask questions lat–” BAM! Your fist loudly connects with his chin and his head turns. After rubbing and stretching his jaw he looks back at you straightens up with a big smile, “Much better.”

“You called me a bitch,” you spit out, still angry but too exhausted to do too much more arguing. “You are.” He pauses, “I take it you don’t like that word too much.”

“No. I don’t.”

He nods, “ Female either, huh..”

“It’s disrespectful. I’m a human. I’m a woman.”

“Oh, I know,” he chuckles.

“Then act like it.”

Your phone vibrates and he pulls it out his pocket to check it. You give up trying to swipe it and glance over instead. The battery is low. It’s also 4 AM. You’ve been awake a long time and it feels like it. Your body is pretty achey. Erik clicks on a notification and almost instantly you are smacked with the reality that you have class in four hours. You let out a stressed whine and stomp your feet, tired and overwhelmed with everything right now and Erik pockets the phone.

–

Dragging you back the the den, Erik shoves you down on your sectional, ignoring all of your protests. He lifts your legs onto the cushions and buries you in the big blanket. “Stay,” he commands, pointing his finger.. and you think of jumping up to spite him, but you’re actually comfortable so you don’t move. He switches the light off and settles onto the other sectional, “If I’m not up, wake me up at 6.” Wait what?

“Where we going?” No response. You wait a few seconds and you ask again.

“Where you think?” He grumbles.

No…. NO!!… Wait, does that mean you’re still somewhere near Brit’s house?

You scramble to your feet and fumble toward Erik’s couch. You hover over him. His eyes are closed and his full lips are slightly parted. No one falls asleep that fast. “We never left Virginia, did we..” you accuse. He doesn’t move. You get louder, “I bet we’re still in Petersburg!..” He smirks. That bastard. “I could’ve been left!” You screech. “I told you that,” he grumbles and turns away, burying the lower half of his face in the blanket. You snatch it, revealing his large shiteating grin. “I ought to walk out of here right now,” you snap. You look toward the hall. “At this point I don’t give a fuck,” he mumbles. All this time, you could’ve just walked out and kept walking. You’re angry just thinking about it. You’ve been harrassed and held prisoner not knowing you were always in charge of your own destiny. You could run right now. You stand and take a step toward the hall. He doesn’t stir. You take another. Then another. You keep moving and find yourself at the door dividing you from your freedom. You twist the knob and it doesn’t move. You try twisting the locks and it still doesn’t move. Maybe you missed something. You notice a strange keyhole and a low deep voice catches you off guard. “Looking for these?” You turn in time to see Erik jingle his keyring, a few steps behind you.

“Y/N.. sweetheart, you really thought I was finna let you go like that?”

You both stare at each other like the other is completely nuts.

He relents and his hand runs through his locs. He looks tired. “Look, we both tired. It’s been a long day. Go to sleep. I’ll drive you to class myself.” He shrugs. “Then you can do whatever you want.” You don’t know if you trust him at this point, but really you have no other choice.

After looking him up and down you pass him and return to your respective couch. He returns to his. “6 AM,” he repeats. “I don’t have an alarm,” you mumble. He pulls out a different phone and pushes some buttons. Neither of you say anything else. You drift off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

You’re startled awake by loud hip-hop in your ear causing you to jerk from your too short nap.

"Count it up, count it up, count it up, count itCount it up, count it up, count it up, count it"

You could sleep at least another six hours, easy. “Get up, get up. You got school today,” yells a wide awake Erik, phone speaker placed at your ear. You groan loudly. “Yeah, I know, but get up,” he yells. Against your body’s wishes you sit up. The music stops. “What time is it,” you ask. Woah. His arms are out and they are huge. Unconsciously your eyes widen and wander to his torso. The grey material of his t-shirt clings to his muscles in a way that speaks to the deep of your stomach and causes the muscles in your nether region to clench. You pan down. Of course, he has the matching Jordan 10s. “You changed your clothes,” you sputter in attempt to disguise your innaproriate stares. He squats to your eye level, his deep brown eyes locking you into a trance. You could stare at those sexy chocolate pools forever too.. or maybe that was the sleepiness talking. Nope, it was definitely you. “You real cute right now, but we’re losing time.” He says and drops your phone in your lap. 5:58 AM and it’s fully charged. He must have charged it when you were asleep. Your face scrunches, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Phakama (Get up). Sishiya (We’re leaving).” He walks toward the hall and you know to follow. He whips out his keyring and for the first time since your abduction you are outside breathing the fresh air. The yellow car sits in front of the house. You take a glance and notice that the house is pretty normal looking from the outside, inconspicuous. The loudest thing is the car. There’re even neighbors. “How did no one hear us screaming in there,” you ask, hopping into the passenger seat. He starts the car and pulls off. “I soundproof where I can.” You nod deciding not to ask why he needs to soundproof his house. “What kind of car is this?” That makes him light up. “It’s a Lexus LFA. You like it huh?” His face is smug and you shrug. “It’s nice.” Who are you kidding, this car is sexy and both of you know it. You reach for the radio, but he stops your hand. “I wanna ask you something… It’s a favor…” You direct your full attention to the side of his face. God he’s beautiful. You wipe that thought from your mind as quickly as it comes. He glances at you and refocuses his attention on the road.

“Speak your mind,” you prod. He props his elbow on the door and envelopes the lower half of his face with his fingers as if he’s stressing.. or hesitating. Now you’re really interested. “What is it..,” you ask a bit more gently. You wait and in true Erik fashion, there’s a long hesitant silence.

“I was thinking… about… a lot of things. Stuff we ain’t talked about… I’ve been waiting on you to ask me, but I understand you ain’t ready for the answers..” He sighs and turns a corner, “So since we can’t go there right now, there’s something else I been wanting to ask you…” You stare at him, transfixed. He steals another glance at you.

“Can you speak to me in Xhosa?” You’re taken aback. Of all things, that’s what he asks for. You start to roll your eyes, but the sincerity in his changes your mind. “I don’t even know that much to be honest. I understand it better than I speak it.” His face falls a little and that small change of expression, almost unnoticeable, nearly breaks your heart for some reason. Damn Stockholm syndrome… Okay. You think back and remember your dad. Your eyes close and suddenly you’re in your old apartment, 7 years old. Your dad just baked you cookies and is stretched out with you across your Black Barbie bed watching Nickelodeon. “Ndiya kuyenza ngokwenene,” he says and you smile. You open your eyes and Erik’s gaze is fixed on you. It’s warm. You feel your face heat and tear your eyes away, staring at the road. In an unexpected move he grabs your hand, running his thumb across it.. comforting the part of you you thought was unreachable by others.. that secret part that longs to be back in that apartment with your dad even now.. the part of you that has always and will always remain a little empty. “I’ll make it real,” Erik says to you and instantly you know he understands. Moreso than maybe anyone else. You can see it in his eyes that that same part exists within him too. You exhale a long shaky breath and he says to you again, “I promise. I’ll make it real.”

–

According to google: Ndiya kuyenza ngokwenene = I’ll make it real

–


	5. Chapter 5

The car turns into Brit’s neighborhood and rolls into the driveway. Your eyes fly to Erik’s and he releases your hand to unhook his seatbelt and yours too. He gestures with his head to the house, “come on.” With uncertainty, you exit the vehicle, looking around. Erik’s already at the front door with his keyring flashing in the sunlight. You catch up and enter the house after him. “Get your shit,” he breathes, zipping around the kitchen, slamming cabinets, jars, and closets.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to return to the scene of a crime?” He ignores you. You stare at Brit’s bedroom door. Last time you opened it, there was a bloodbath. Your spine feels a familiar chill. Just then you see Erik spring forward into your vision, pushing the door open. It’s clean. The blankets have been replaced and there’s no trace of blood anywhere. You let the trapped breath you’ve been holding escape. Erik is rummaging through drawers and closets. Your eyes find your laptop and textbooks. You grab them and your shoes and that’s all that’s yours. You awkwardly take a seat on the living room couch to skim quickly through the assigned reading chapters of your textbook while you wait for Erik’s looting spree to end. He peaks out of Brit’s room, locs falling casually over his almond eyes. “Come here.”

You instantly leave your belongings on the couch and move. This is not a place to mess around in. Once inside the room, Erik presses a black outfit into your arms complete with sneakers, “Put this on.” You were with Brit when she ordered these clothes from Fashion Nova. Why did she have to be a murderer? How did you not know? “I can’t fit her clothes,” you say. Brit was curvy but her midsection especially and her thighs were smaller than yours. Her feet were a half-size bigger, however, so you knew the shoes would work. “It’s a tracksuit, it stretches,” he stretches the band on the pants and then the fabric. “It’s actually a tennis… court set,” you trail off. He looks at you like you’re stupid and you don’t really blame him right now. “HURRY UP,” he snaps. His freaking mood swings are blowing you. You take the clothes to the bathroom and take a look at your reflection. There’s sleep and crust around your eyes. You already knew you had morning breath. Your curls are still there but really frizzy. “Cute my ass,” you mutter mortified. He’d called you cute earlier but he MUST have been sleep deprived. You find a towel and washcloth and jump in the shower, soaping up and washing as quickly as possible.

You hear the bathroom door open and Erik’s voice outside of the shower curtain. You cover yourself as best as you can, anticipating a curtain snatch but instead you hear, “How you feel about lingerie?” “Nigga what?” you squeak peaking your head from the behind the curtain. He’s holding a pink lacy bra and thong. You’re confused until you realize that’s the only thing that hasn’t been worn yet by Brit. It’s new. “Can’t have you marking up other bitc– women’s underwear,” he corrects himself, “dead or alive.” Your face scrunches, “nigga I’m clean I don’t know what type of women you’ve been dealing with.” “Well I definitely ain’t fucked your roommate.. it was close but I smelled that muhfukka on my finger and-” “UGH MY GOD YOU’RE DISGUSTING,” you cut him off returning to the water. “Nah THAT was disgusting,” he retorts.

“Shit… I might need another shower just thinking about that shit… move over.” And just like that you hear him stripping. “I know the fuck you aint!” You yell peaking past the curtain again. There is a tall brown wall of tapered muscle before you. You gape openly in awe as he steps out of his pants. His prominent chest and shoulders flex. You forget yourself for a second and focus on the meticulous pattern of keyloids scarring his chest, stomach, and biceps. You hadn’t noticed them before on his forearms, but now you could see a couple. “Ask me,” he commands snapping you back to reality. Rudely, you’d been gawking at his scars but he doesn’t seem all that mad. “Cicatrisation,” you say, “it’s a type of scarification that can represent a social, political, or religious role.. or viewpoint, I guess,” his eyebrow raises. He’s impressed. “I never thought I’d see something like this in person. What does yours mean?” He drops his boxers then and your eyes drop on their own. Now you’re the one who’s impressed and honestly a little terrified as the elephant trunk sways in your direction.

Erik snatches the shower curtain back and hops in. Your eyes are wide, “GET OUT!” Your soapy hands shove him but he pulls you into a tight embrace, like an anaconda, your arms tight against your sides. His actual anaconda is pressed against your front. You bite down on his chest hoping to cause pain and you feel the anaconda pressed between you twitch. “Stop,” he whispers low into your ear, breath grazing your neck. He places a small kiss where his breath caressed. Your knees go to jelly and you slowly lose the tension in your body. Your thoughts jumble but your pride won’t let you succumb. You feel his tongue roll over that sensitive spot on your neck and then his full lips lock on in a passionate suction. You start to melt into him and one of his hands glide to grip your ass. Your now free arm grabs his waist and your thigh rises. Before your mind can catch up to your body, your leg is wrapped around him. His increasingly sloppy kisses trail your collarbone and you throw your head back releasing a small whimper, breathing shallow. He smirks, trailing those sloppy kisses down your torso. “Mmm,” he growls as his hands squeeze, grip, and fondle their way from your titties to your plush midsection to your hips. The feverish kisses continue down and his beard nuzzles between your thighs. You allow them to part. His expert tongue dances between your slick folds, gliding with ease and before you know it, you’re flush against the shower wall with your leg over his shoulder. His tongue continues to explore, plunging into your wetness and back up to tease your sensitive clit, running over it until your entire body is on fire. You thrust your hips and he smirks sucking the engorged bud into his mouth. Your hand travels over his head and fists through his locs, using them to anchor him closer. He groans deeply into you, squeezing your ass and slapping one the cheeks. The sting only contributes to your quickly building orgasm. You roughly grind yourself against his face until your mouth drops open and you feel your orgasm rip through you as you cry out. “Mhm,” he moans encouragingly and slaps your ass again. His thick middle finger slips into you followed by his index and they massage your gspot. A desperate moan floats from your lips and you remember Brit the night she died… well, was murdered.The tight lock on your thigh and the shocking intensity of your rising orgasm distracts you from those thoughts. Your eyes clamp shut and you can hear the obscene wetness sloshing around Erik’s fingers. “Mhm,” he murmers again, muffled. “Gimme that cum.” As if triggered, your body jerks and you try to push him off just a little as you feel yourself begin to shake but his unrelenting mouth continues its rude assault. Your climax is loud and hard and he finally allows you to push him away as you struggle to come down. He turns the water off and hops out the shower, toweling off with your towel. He reaches back to you, a heavy breathing mess, and dries you too. Your still stuck on what the fuck just happened. He grabs mouthwash from under the sink and holds it up to your mouth. You remember your bad breath. Oh God! You lunge at the liquid and gargle like a madwoman. Erik redresses quickly and exits the bathroom. “Hurry up, we gonna be late,” he calls back gently. He’s not yelling this time, you note. You dress quicker than you’ve ever dressed before, not really mad at the fit of the outfit. He was right. You find gel under the sink and slick your hair into a little bun and then you’re out.

–

Erik’s not in the house, but neither is your laptop or textbooks. You rush from the house and find your way back to the passenger seat. The car’s already running. “Seatbelt,” he reminds you before pulling off. You rest your head on the headrest and catch your breath. His hand finds its way back to yours.

“Your scars..” you murmer, “what do they represent?” He grins as you study his profile. You are taken by his cute little dimple. He uses the hand holding yours to turn the radio on, but you switch it back off, grabing his hand again. His grin expands. “You really want to know?” He teases.

“You want me to know, but yes, I really want to know.”

He pauses and you wait.

“Before I answer that, you should know.. two things.”

“Okay…?” You wait.

“Our fathers were a part of something that went far beyond them.. beyond us. Even now, it’s bigger than me and you. They were Wakandans. For generations their people lived completely removed from the rest of the world, flourishing and content to watch us suffer. I’ve been around the world and seen a lot of shit so trust me when I say they have intelligence and resources.. weapons capable of withstanding almost any force.. stronger than anything we know. Imagine a country of the blackest niggas you know, rich Mansa Musa muhfuckas.. sleep for decades on decades. Transatlantic slave trade happened right under their noses, what they do? Turn em up. Our people are enslaved all over the globe, slaughtered, facing gross injustice everyday. They could stop it if they want to, free us all, but they don’t give a fuck!”

You blink.. “Make it real,” you murmer trying to understand.

“Your dad wanted to free our people all over the globe. Put vibranium in the hands of black people everywhere.”

“Vibranium?” You ask.

“Strongest metal known to man. In Wakanda, they lace it in everything. The weapons, the architecture, even the clothing. Who knows, they probably eat the shit.”

You stare at his hand clenched on the steering wheel. He notices your stare and relaxes his hand, but you can see in his body language that he’s still tense.

“You want Wendy’s?”

“Don’t change the subject,” you squeeze the hand in yours almost begging with your eyes for more information.

“Our dads left the comfort of Wakanda and went against the king’s orders to bring vibranium to states. They wanted everyone free, not just a few, and for that they were murdered. I came home from playing basketball one night to find my daddy laying there with panther claws in his chest!”

Your eyes widen and you can feel his pain in your chest, choking you. His rage fills the car and it’s almost tangible. In fact, you realize you’re pretty angry too. You raise his hand to your face and kiss his knuckles. After a few moments the both of you calm down.

Hesitant to set him off, you ask quietly, “Panther claws? I thought it was his people who did it..”

“You know Spiderman? Iron Man? Hulk?”

“Oh yeah!” You chirp finally having recognized something he said. You’d seen them all over tv and in the news. They’d never flown into your part of town though.

“It’s like that only this nigga dress like a fuckin cat. He goes by Black Panther and he’s the king of Wakanda.”

“Wait like the Panther Party?”

“He don’t deserve that fuckin name.”

“So the king of Wakanda.. a man who calls himself Black Panther killed your dad…” you piece together slowly.

“That ain’t even the best part,” Erik smirks with no humor and you’re shocked this messed up story could get even more convoluted.

“They were brothers.”

Your head spins as you put two and two together. “The king killed his own brother in cold blood.. for trying to help black people.. and then left him..”

You look at Erik and he’s nodding along to each each word you say.

“Left him… for you, a kid, to find.”

He nods. You’re furious now. “WHAT THE FUCK,” you yell. At least you didn’t see your father’s body. You were told he’d just died. “They just left you here…alone..” you trail off getting lost in your thoughts. Erik nods, “Us..”

You exhale an angry breath. “They truly don’t give a fuck..” You’re amazed by that concept.

“Wait.. if the brother of the king was your father then does that make you… a prince?”

He nods and your stomach drops. What did you get yourself into?

“Number two.. Your dad smuggled vibranium from Wakanda and they reclaimed a lot of it, but there’s some he hid and some he sold that’s gotten into the wrong hands. I’m trying to locate that and get it into my hands.”

“Well shit,” you breathe. You didn’t even know vibranium existed until now.

“That necklace you’re wearing..”

You touch the necklace you’ve had since birth.

“It’s vibranium,” he says.

For a moment you wonder if the only reason he’s being nice to you is to get to the vibranium, but to then again he could’ve taken your necklace at any point and you never would’ve known. He could’ve killed you or even tortured whatever information from you. Then you steel… what if.. what if he’s fucking it out of me? You pause, lost in fast running thoughts.

“Damn.. calm down,” he laughs. He’d been watching your reactions. The smile on his face hits you and you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe… you don’t mind if he uses you to get vibranium. Maybe you’d let him. Afterall, you didn’t even know about it until he told you.. and in that shower earlier.. it sure felt good to be used.

“What do your scars represent,” you demand now, not asking.

He pulls up to your campus, the building your class is located in nearing. Suddenly you don’t want to leave. You eye him closely and finally he relents.

“People I’ve killed…” he states seemingly unashamed. His eyes lock with yours, alight with humor. You’re shocked, but it doesn’t register on your face because you suspected he’d be capable of something like this. You’d seen the darkness in his eyes and you’d seen a small piece of his rage.

“How many people?”

He pulls up right in front of your building and stops in the middle of the road. “Go to class,” he grins. You grab your stuff and open the door but make no move to leave. You’re almost 5 minutes late anyway. Horns blare behind you as you hold up the already busy traffic. He’s obviously amused by all of this.

“How many?” You demand, eyes locking again.

He drags it and there’re more aggressively pissed off car honks. He flips off the car behind you without breaking eye contact. Little does he know you could play this game all morning.

“I’m not gonna ask you again,” you yell, channeling him.

“I kinda figured you were a squirter.. You squirted all over my damn beard today, I can still taste you.. What you got to say about that?”

Your face heats and your voice wavers, “Erik, I’m not playing with you..”

Beeeep! Beep beep beep. HOOONK!

You stare through his smug grin.

“2,200.. Maybe more.”

You hop out the vehicle and slam the door, but not too hard because it’s beautiful. He pulls off and you watch until the car disappears. That was the fastest abduction you’ve ever experienced. You check your phone. You’re late, but you made it. With one final glance back, you walk to class.


	6. Chapter 6

He’s a beautiful man, that’s undeniable. You’ve never seen a dimpled man so aggressive. Something about him made you want to stick to him. Ride with him through whatever journey he may be on.

Focus.

Almost halfway through your early class you realized Erik still had your wallet and probably your keys because they weren’t back at Brit’s house and they should’ve been. You should’ve demanded them back when you thought about it, but his stubborness made retrieving your phone a feat alone. You had to cut and punch him for it.

He’s making me violent, you think to yourself. He literally taught you how to punch him harder.

You were able to skim through your textbook enough to b.s. your way through class participation, making a mental note to really read the chapters later, but your mind kept drifting to more immediately relevant matters.

Underneath the shallow consideration and gestures of intimacy, really amazing gestures… You still feel the memory of his tongue…

Focus!

You’d been incredibly inconvenienced and, even now, you’re being manipulated to comply despite your own personal obligations. You were being toyed with and although you said you might let it happen.. You weren’t too sure now.

His damn dimples…

What were you really gaining? You were losing control of your life and he hadn’t been in it for 24 hours. “This is pathetic,” your hands fly to your head and you know you need a plan.

–

You plop down into a large chair on the main floor of the campus’ busy library. It’s located directly across from the building where your next class is. Time to take inventory and map out where you stand.

First off.. You’re starving and you should have taken the offer for Wendy’s earlier. You have no cash, credit card, keys, license, or personal identification on you. Erik has all of that. You have your phone, some books, and a laptop. You whine quietly, allowing yourself to be frustrated at the ridiculous situation you’ve found yourself in. You definitely need to confront Erik and get your shit back ASAP.

Your eyes flick up and dart around to ensure that no one’s close to you or paying attention. You go to your messages and find the contact Erik🍆👀. Your nudes stare back at you from the screen and you delete the line of them knowing that it won’t change what he has of you. You begin to type:

You have my belongings and I need them right now. Bring them to me.

You exit your messages and open your laptop, but a notification brings you back to the message. That was fast.

I’m busy

You reply.

I don’t care. Get here.

He leaves you on read.

You check the time and you still have 45 minutes before your next class, but you’re antsy and annoyed. He’s still playing games with your time and he knows that you know that he’s aware. You double text.

Erik don’t play with me

Read.

He’s really showing out now. You decide to call. The phone rings and rings again.

“I’m busy,” he snaps and hangs up. You stare at the phone in disbelief. This mercurial motherfucker… You wish with everything in you that you remembered the address of the house he’d taken you to, you’d definitely smash the fuck out of that house. Your stomach growls and you clutch it. You feel tired and weak.

Your phone rings a minute later. It’s Erik🍆👀.

“When I say I’m busy that means you stop fuckin’ contacting me until I’m free,” he spits.

Your rage is just as hot. “I wouldn’t have to contact you at all if you gave me my shit! I can’t even eat,” you whisper aggresively. Someone looks at you then and you challenge them with your eyes, scaring them off.

“Who the fuck you think you talkin to,” he mumbles lowly.

“I’m not finna do this with you. Give me my stuff and I’m out your life.”

“You don’t decide if you out of my life. I decide that.”

“You’re an asshole.”

A hand clamps down hard on your shoulder causing you to flinch almost dropping your laptop. “That damn dirty mouth,” Erik’s voice grunts in your ear sending chills up your spine. He releases you. You look back and there’s a wicked grin on his face.

Shaken, you gasp, “What the fuck?” You roll your eyes as he rounds your chair to squat in front of you. You kick him in the chest and he falls back. There are a few glances of strangers, but seeing your eyes they quickly return to other focuses. He climbs back into a squat and you move your foot to kick him again.

“Stop,” he cautions. You kick at him again and he catches your shoe, “You want your stuff or not?”

Your glare is intense as you snatch your foot back. “Y/N,” he croons and his eyes are gentle. Nope. Hell no, you’re done with this. You’re a joke to him. He thinks this is funny. “Y/N,” he repeats.

Voice like honey maple..

“You really think I’d dip on you like that?”

“Hmph,” you grunt pointedly, crossing your arms. You’d waited less than 10 minutes before he’d popped up meaning he’d been there the whole time, close to you. Not busy.

“I waited for you. One, I know you ain’t eat.. and two, we ain’t finish our talk,” the raspy sweetness of his voice is intoxicating and his teasing eyes are alight with humor, dancing across your face.

Should you still be mad? You don’t know, but you refuse to cave.

“Aw, my baby mad,” he pouts and you remember his inner lip tattoo. You did have more questions, but his games.. they were too much and his humor seemed to always be at your expense.

“I’m not your baby,” you quip. “You don’t play with the lives of people you like.” His brows raise and his look of contemplation is brief. He fixes his mouth to say something, but closes it again. You wait. He looks like he’s struggling to say something, but then his head drops. You wonder if you’ve upset him and part of you wants to touch him, but common sense says stay put. You decide to make no move. When he raises his head, he doesn’t look at you. “Your things are at the house…”

You scoff smelling a setup to get you back into captivity and start collecting your things to walk away. He quickly continues, “I’ll get them to you today, I swear.” Your scowl says that you no longer care about anything he’s talking about. He leaps to his feet and his eyes are pleading. That’s new… but it’s not enough. You stand and start in the direction of your class. Erik steps in front of you, but quickly backs down giving you space. “Y/N… let me fix this.”

“Begging doesn’t move me,” you retort, moving around him. He’s at your side in a few strides. “Y/N…” he pleads.

Honey maple… He knows what he’s doing.

You ignore him and walk faster. He rushes in front of you to cut off your path. You squeeze the bridge of your nose to keep from exerting the small bit of energy you have. His stomach grumbles loudly and your hand drops.

“Did you eat?”

He shrugs. “Only thing I ate today was your pussy… I’ve been waiting on you.”

You swallow. For a while nothing more is said. You break the silence, “Chipotle. You’re buying.” He gushes an exhale of relief and composes himself, “Anything you want.” He knows exactly what you want.

“I promised you and I’m not gonna break it,” he says reading your mind, “Matter of fact, hold onto this.” He removes a chain from his neck holding a ring. “This was my father’s ring… Until you get your things back, it’s yours.” He tucks it into your palm.

You feel it’s weight.. physically and emotionally.

God dammit… why does he have this hold on you? You tuck it safely into you pocket, but he retrieves it and places it around your neck.

“I’m hungry. Can we go?”

He smirks. “Wait here.” He takes off in a jog, disappearing around the block. The yellow car reappears eventually and you hop in. “Get me back in time.”

He pulls off, “Yes, my love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. Your little heart was fluttering like a butterfly on speed.. but that was beside the point. He needed to earn your affections and being a self-serving asshole was not the way.

“Yes, Y/N.” He smiles letting you know that he sees straight through your anger. Perceptive.

You toss your laptop and books in the back and notice a black cloth bag. It was there before when you left Brit’s place, but you didn’t get to ask about it.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Open it,” he says. You grab it and sling it onto your lap, reaching inside to pull out the contents. Huge wads of cash, not all of it American.. and a gold necklace. Brit’s necklace. “Is this what you were looting for?” You shake out the bag feeling something sharp inside and an ornate blade falls out. Suddenly you know, “Vibranium.”

He parks the car at the nearby Chipotle and you watch him silently stuff the items back into the bag, getting out to place it back where it was. The two of you head inside and bring your food back to the car. He pops on the radio and a Nas cd starts playing. He’s burried in his burrito. He even chews cute. You take a few bites of your own burrito before you turn the tape down.

Don’t be blinded by the man. Find out his plan.

You turn to him and take a sip of your drink before launching into your questions.

“So… You killed Brit for vibranium. You kidnapped me for vibranium. Tell me I’m lying.”

He looks up and shrugs, still chewing. “You’re not…” he sips his drink. You wait for elaboration.

“That exactly what the fuck I did.. yes, I’d do the shit again. But I do genuinely care about you and I ain’t lie about any of the shit I told you.”

You blink, taking in his response.

“That’s not even a lot of vibranium to be killing someone over.”

“There was a target on her. Someone was gonna kill her, might as well have been me.”

“Why’d you fuck her first?” It sounds crass, but you felt like you needed to ask.

He groans, “I wanted to… Damn.”

“Who do you work for?”

He sighs and drops his burrito, “I thought you were hungry.”

“Would you kill me?” You watch his eyes.

“I haven’t killed you yet,” he answers as if it’s obvious.

“Mhm,” you mumble and decide to drop that line of questioning for now. “How am I supposed to direct you to my dad’s vibranium if I didn’t even know what it was until today?”

His head falls back against the headrest. “You’re not. You’re supposed to eat, go to class, work, and live your life.”

“Then what do you want from me? Why did you keep me once you knew I thought Wakanda was fake? You knew then I didn’t know about no damn vibranium.”

“CAN’T WE JUST EAT, DAMN.”

“NO. You don’t choose the questions I ask. What do you want from me?”

“Maybe I just like you and enjoy your company, although now you’re kind of pissing me off.”

You roll your eyes.

“I told you.. We similar. What kind of answer you looking for?”

“Forget about it,” you mumble returning to your burrito. You feel him stare at the side of your face and ignore him. He steps out of the car and slams the door, hard. You’re shocked. You glance up and he’s gone. By the time he gets back you’re done eating and it’s time to get you to your next class.

–

Erik doesn’t speak as he drops you off. He just pulls off again. You don’t bother to look back this time as you rush off to class.


	7. Chapter 7

You walk out and wait at the point where you were dropped off. Erik didn’t say he would come, but as far as you were concerned, he’d better. As if summoned, the yellow car rolls around. You hop in and he pulls off.

“Black bag,” he says curtly, eyes focused ahead. You look at him and your hand stretches to pull the bag.

“Empty it,” he commands. You dump the contents on your lap. Keys. Wallet. ID. Ok, good. It’s all here. You feel something else in the bag and keep shaking it. A large wad of cash, way more than you originally had.

“Hush money,” you spurt. You retrieve his chain from your neck and press it back into his palm. He takes it back. The music comes on and the rest of the ride is quiet.

–

In the lot of your apartment you spot your abandoned car. Your roommate should be at work now.. at least you hope she is. You think about the blip of time you’ve spent away from this place. It feels like it’s been couple of days. You look over at Erik. He’s stroking his beard and ignoring you. So much for the ‘my love’. If you leave now you may never see Erik again. You hope your hesitant hand on the door handle will draw his attention enough for him to say something. Anything.

You open the door. He doesn’t look. You grab your things and exit the vehicle. The vehicle rolls back and pulls away. Then he’s gone. Just like that. You kind of expect him to come back so you wait a minute. Then five. Nothing. Resigned, you hop on the elevator to the 4th floor, Apartment 409. When you step through the door you see dishes and pots in sink and your mood immediately worsens, but you wash them. You drag to your room and sling down your belongings, pulling out your phone. “No messages,” you sigh.

You change into some black pants, a floral blouse, and flats. Grabbing your work satchel, you make yourself forget about Erik and head back to your car.

–

You pull up at the Life Balance Resource Center, the mental health center where you work and complete your practicum placement hours for school. You walk in and find your supervisor, a older brown skin lady with graying hair and her signature red lipstick on her teeth.

“Y/N! I meant to call you, I’ve been caught up with my own clients. Would you believe I had to chase a woman with my car because she refused to take her meds? She was in bad shape..” You feign shock, “Wow, that’s wild. I hope she’s okay.”

“I got her to come back eventually, but it was stressful. Remember, you should never give up on your clients. They need us BECAUSE they make bad decisions. We’re there to show them a better way.”

You nod. You refuse to chase anyone with your car, but you respect her dedication.

“Oh right, I’ve got another case for you. Follow me.”

Back in her office you take a seat and she briefs you on a gentleman who’s sought out mental health services. You read his diagnosis and a brief summary of what brought him to LBRC. PTSD. Anger issues. Issues with keeping a job because of angry outbursts. Intimacy issues. In your mind you’re already formulating a plan of action to help this man.

“I need you to start this one today. Go visit him and draft an ISP, suicide safety plan, and get him linked with an outpatient therapist.”

You look at the address. He’s not far from where you live.

You dial the number recorded for him and he picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, I’m with Life Balance Resource Center. Are you available to speak right now?”

The voice on the other end sounds foreign, there’s a thick European accent. “Yes, I’m at home today. Feel free to drop by.” You’re pleasantly shocked at the blunt invite. Most clients make you press your way in, which you don’t understand given the fact that the services are completely voluntary.

“Great, I’m in the area. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“See ya then,” the call ends.

–

He lives in a pretty nice house, you note. He must have some sort of stability despite the consistent job loss. You ring the doorbell and a burly pink Caucasian man with white hair and beard answers, beckoning you inside. He’s wearing a vest and a button down.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Klaue, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand. He sniffs and reaches to take your hand. “Y/N L/N,” he amends. You stiffen, “that’s correct.” Definitely German, you think, finally able to place his accent. His face curls into an expression of humor that’s lost on you. Does he know something that you don’t?

“Daughter of J'Kobi of Wakanda,” his pink face shakes with a wheeze of low laughter. You take a step back, poised to sprint back out of the door. Your flight instinct causes your adrenaline to pull open the font door with so much force that it slams into the wall. Your heart races. You’re met with a wall of flesh from the other side of the door and for the second time in 24 hours you are conked unconscious.

–

Your eyelids part warily and take in your surroundings. Fear kicks in again and you’re afraid for your life. You’d always been taught to have a plan of escape in case you came across a dangerous situation. Home visits were dangerous afterall, people liked to forget that. It’s dark, but there’s a glimmer of light from your feet. There’s a door in front of you and the small amount of light is coming from the bottom. The dark space is small. You’re in a closet tied to a chair, mouth gagged. You try to wiggle your arms, but the ropes are tight. You hear voices from outside of the door.

“Sie weiß, wo es ist… Of course she knows!” Klaue argues with… no one? He must be on the phone.

“Tell him to get here as fast as he can. I hear moving, I think she’s awake,” a second American voice says. You’re frozen. You know what they want but you don’t know anything about the vibranium. They’re going to kill you for sure. A fat tear falls down your face and you snort back the waterworks that threaten to break forth.

“Well hurry up,” you hear Klaue grumble.

–

You don’t know how long you’ve been in the closet but you have to pee. You’re afraid to ask so you hold it.

You hear shuffling and footsteps followed by voices which get louder as they grow closer to the door.

The obnoxious German voice booms, “Get her out! Come on!” Klaue. The door swings open and your eyes go wide.

There are three men present. Klaue to the right and an unknown white male to the left. The one in the middle, Erik.

–

sie weiß, wo es ist = She knows where it is


	8. Chapter 8

Erik’s Perspective

The Reaper was part of a lucrative human trafficking ring based in Virginia which spread from Petersburg to Richmond and according to my sources, she’d been tucked away in that house as though she couldn’t be touched. She was responsible for the deaths of hundreds of men, women, and children who she’d lured under her knife. She’d gut em’ and sell the pieces with no remorse. Her own damn people. 

I’d killed thousands from all over the world, but it was never just for the money. I did it for my people. In time, the lives I’d save would surpass the lives I’d stolen and then I’d die and join the lost along with everyone taken from me. Yeah, I’d have a lot of good shit to tell em’ when I crossed over. I’d see my father and I’d tell him his life’s work wasn’t in vain. I, N’Jadaka, brought a revolution that flipped the order of the world, placing all niggas on top. Idid that shit. I wanted it so bad, I could taste it.

I’d get there, but first I had to kill that Judas ass bitch. I’d already infiltrated her life and got her open to the point that I could just walk up on her anytime, much like she did with her victims. I could just kill her quickly like I’d done so many times before, but nah. I needed to see the pain in her eyes as the life left. I’m not ashamed to admit that shit was personal. I knew what that betrayal felt like.

I watched from a distance as she strolled confidently through the mall with another unsuspecting girl, Y/N was her name, and she had a secret but I was going to find out what it was. 

–

“Yeah, gimme what you got..” I’d called in a favor to get some background on this girl who seemed to be completely oblivious to the activities of her friend when she wasn’t around. My boy was finally getting back to me.

“Wakandan?” 

It was then I could see it in her facial features. She was Wakandan alright. 

“Father deceased, heart attack, name was J’Kobi. Mother deceased, cancer, name was Victoria,” my man revealed.

J’Kobi.. J’KOBI. 

That name was in my daddy’s journal. J’Kobi was sent on a mission from Wakanda, much like my dad was and they’d linked. I’d met him once before when I was young. He gave me a snickers, like another uncle figure only I never saw him again.

Yeah, I remember a tall, dark skin man with a tattoo on his inner lip like my daddy. My daddy had given me that same tattoo.

“How long ago did they die?”

“Uhh.. she would’ve been two when her mom passed and seven when her dad passed. Same year your father did actually.. that’s crazy, can you believe that?” This nigga is intrigued, but if he only knew the whole story. A heart attack. 

A heart attack? The fuck. Nah, that nigga was murdered just like my daddy was murdered. Obviously they left his ass too, like he wasn’t shit.   

“What happened to the girl after her father died.. of a heart attack?”

“Foster care system. She aged out. Seems like she was really smart for someone her age though, I’m sure she was able to make something out of the fucked up cards life dealt her,” he says. 

They left her too and she was younger than me. Looking at her now, smiling all cute with lil’ miss serial killer, it looks like life has it out for her. And here I am, a whole other beast, stalking her ass. I ain’t shit.

Wait.. J’Kobi. J’Kobi was the nigga moving the vibranium. He had it when he died. What happened to all that vibranium? It hasn’t been on the markets, you’d checked. Did the Wakandans reclaim it? It’s possible they took it all back, but if they didn’t, then it’s still wherever he stored it… waiting to be weaponized.

“Aight man thanks,” I hung up and contacted Klaue. This could be a job requiring a crew and he’d definitely be down.

–

For the next week, all my time was spent watching Y/N.

I noticed all kinds of shit. Like for one, she clueless. Two, she was quietly beautiful. It wasn’t in your face but it was there in how she carried herself and how she communicated with others. She had a big heart although life had thrown her a lot of curves. Speaking of curves, I could watch that ass alone for hours.. and I had. 

I was conflicted. I knew her schedule, her life story, her father’s legacy, and I figured I could use her to get to the vibranium J’Kobi had hidden. Afterall, I was the only one who could make J'Kobi’s dream and my father’s dream a reality. Only I could infiltrate Wakanda and take the necessary steps to wage a war on the colonized world. I told myself I’d sacrifice anything and anyone I had to for that goal and then I’d die in peace. 

Or at least that was the plan..

–

“You’re late,” she said standing in front of the door looking like an evil snack. If I didn’t have to kill her, I might fuck her. The way she was looking, it’s what she wanted. Y/N was on the couch, though I didn’t look at her, and I needed her to leave or she’d witness the shit that was going down. She was innocent and didn’t need to see that shit. Unfortunately, I knew she didn’t drive there so she couldn’t leave. 

“You like what you see?” I actually did. It may be fucked up, but I’d decided to give her exactly what she wanted.. Then I’d flip the switch. Y/N read my energy, smart girl, and went into another room. I liked her already. 

I hoisted Reaper into the air carrying her into her room, kicking the door closed behind us. I slammed her onto her bed and she began to strip from the blue get-up until there was only bare skin. I watched, enjoying the show. She grabbed a condom from her night stand, magnums. She’d taken a guess and she was right. I shoved her back against the bed before dropping my pants and then my boxers. I didn’t need her to spook after seeing the gun hidden in my waistband. This had to be smooth. Placing it behind me on the bed, I ran my finger down her glistening pussy lips. She was already ready. I dragged that wet finger to her mouth and she sucked it eagerly. 

“You freaky bitch..” 

She giggled and I knew exactly how the situation would end. Donning the condom, I placed her legs onto my shoulders and proceeded to fuck the evil out of her. She was speaking in tongues while I cast out her demons with my dick, holding her down into place, not wanting her to move too much and see the gun. She mistook the move for a dominant power play and moaned louder. The ugliest moan that almost made me go soft. Maybe it was just the fact that I ain’t like her ass.. could’ve been. Why couldn’t I be dickin’ Y/N instead? Had to be better than this. This pussy was trash.

“Oh Erik.. oh my damn…” 

“Shut up,” I covered her mouth having heard movement outside the door. Y/N no doubt. Come to play? No she wasn’t the type. Her presence disappeared again.

Reaper whimpered through my fingers, bringing me back to the sex. My body had been on autopilot and unknowingly I was just drilling her shit. She was close to cumming. Time to end this now. As her muscles began to spasm, I choked her. I squeezed until her ecstasy turned into fear. The sense of betrayal was there and I reveled in it. This was for all the people she’d killed.

“How you wanna die, bitch?” Her hands flew to mine in attempt to pry me off but I was too strong. Unlike her victims, I could fight back. I nuzzled my nose into her reddening cheek while she clung to consciousness.

“The Reaper huh.. What would you have done to Y/N? Should I do that to you? Answer me.” Her eyes go large and she shakes her head, no. 

“You scared of death, Reaper?” Ironic. I released her neck and pulled out of her.

She nodded, eyes bloodshot and I lost any respect I could’ve had for her. She’d taken too much life to fear death. I snatched her pillow, placing it over her struggling head and aimed my gun at it, releasing the trigger. 

–

Y/N came out of the room and something in me wanted to fuck with her. I’d moved my car. I didn’t want her to know I was there, but I wanted to observe her reactions. When she opened that door and saw the blood it was as though she was seeing death for the first time. She didn’t deserve to see it like that, but I decided she needed to. She didn’t need to be hidden from it, she needed to embrace it and become stronger, like me. Because of her identity, she had a target on her back and for some reason danger was attracted to her wherever she went. 

She needed someone to open her eyes to reality and stay with her, helping her through it. Toughen her up until she had the skills to protect herself.

I decided she needed me specifically. In the process, I’d find that vibranium.

So I took her.

–

With Y/N unconscious in the backseat, I drove to a house I’d bought nearby. In a moment of weakness, thinking about all the loss Y/N had experienced and how hard she’d worked to get to where she was, I’d bought that house outright with cash I’d gotten from hits. I’d employed recent technologies to make it as safe as possible. Between her funky ass roommate and a notorious serial killer friend, she needed a better option for housing. She deserved that much.

I carried her into the garage and gently laid her on her side, tying her hands. Not that she could do shit, but I needed her to know she couldn’t do shit. I needed her to talk to me honestly and tell me everything she knew and in great detail. I needed to know what she knew about the vibranium, considering the fact that some of it was around her neck. I needed her to know the truth about her father’s untimely death. This was an interrogation, but it was also an intervention and I definitely wouldn’t hurt her.. especially not in this house. 

I observed her up close, checking her inner lip. No tattoo. She was never meant to go to Wakanda. The more I looked at her, the worse I felt, but I’d live with that if it meant finding the vibranium. Maybe she’d lead me to it. Maybe she’d help. If she knew the truth, that is.. Maybe if I told her the full truth, she’d join me. It was worth a shot.


	9. Chapter 9

Unphased by your wide eyes filled with horror, the white American moves into the closet and struggles to lift the chair into the open, jerking you along with it. He plops you down hard with a loud thud and you whimper as he snatches the gag from your tired mouth. Klaue approaches and grips you by the bun, rattling your brain with his aggressive pulls.

“Where’s the vibranium hidden,” he demands shaking your head. His unrelenting grip on your hair has sharp pains shooting through your stressed scalp. Fear strips the wind from your lungs and you’re rendered speechless, not knowing what you should do or what to tell him to save your own life. Klaue’s face twists as though possessed and his grip moves to your throat. You struggle against the ropes to no avail and things become foggy.

“You’re gonna tell me where it is and then you you’re gonna lead me to it. Ya hear me, girl?” He snarls. A strained mouthing of “I.. don’t.. know,” is all you can muster.

“Let me handle this,” Erik steps forward. Klaue’s grip tightens and you feel the fight leaving your body along with the light.

“You’ve been handling it, boy! I’m going to handle it now,” Klaue yells turning back to your tearstained face. Your eyes fall to Erik’s icy ones, pleading. His gaze goes straight through you. His eyes are as cold as the first time you saw him as he glares at you.. This is not the Erik you’ve come to care for. That Erik never truly existed. You’d wanted to believe that your chemistry and the moments of vulnerabilty you experienced together were true.. that he felt some type of connection to you as he’d led you to believe. He couldn’t fake all of that, could he? As you stare at the increasingly foggy image of the man before you, your answer becomes painfully clear.

You were a fool.

Erik’s eyes break contact.

“Man, your way ain’t doing shit,” he snaps, “I had this bitch talking. If you kill her and we don’t find the shit, I swear I’m killing everyone in your crew.. Back the fuck up.”

The grip on your throat releases and you gasp harshly, the air burning your lungs. When your eyes refocus, Erik is in your face. He waits for your breathing to somewhat stabilize and then he speaks, voice calm.

“Babygirl.. Your father hid a shit ton of vibranium somewhere.. I need to know where it is… I need you to think really hard because your life depends on it.. Can you do that?” He lifts your chin forcing you to look in his eyes. “I don’t hear you,” he whispers.

You don’t know and he should know by now that you honestly don’t know. Your eyes flicker breifly to Klaue and Erik’s hand flies across your face with a loud smack, stinging your cheek. That’s the move that breaks you and your entire body begins to shake with the force of your sobs. He snatches your chin back into his grasp.

“What I tell you about tears? I don’t give a fuck about those,” he spits.

Then he pulls out an ornate blade, the same one he took from Brit.. vibranium. You hear the white American chuckle in the background. The blade presses against your neck drawing the tiniest amount of blood. You wince. Erik throws his head back in the direction of the chuckle.

“Oh you like that,” Erik calls to him. The white man steps forward, getting a closer look. It’s like he’s getting off on this.

“I don’t.. know anything,” you croak. Erik turns back to you.

“Nah princess, you know something.. You just need your memories jogged.”

He stands and goes to whisper something to Klaue. Klaue chuckles richly and gestures to the white American. They exit the space together through a doorway to the right. Erik paces slowly back toward you and your stomach drops as he raises the blade. You are hyper aware of his movements as he saunters behind you and then his breath is at your ear.

“Don’t try anything stupid.”

The ropes around you pull and then go slack, dropping around you. You don’t move a muscle. He cuts the ropes on your ankles and then sheathes the blade in his back pocket before backing away again.

“Get up,” he sneers. His stone eyes cut toward the door and back to you. When you stand, your bladder reawakens and you’ve really gotta use the restroom, but you’re too terrified to ask or even speak. You feel hot liquid running down your legs and you’re so mortified that the sobs return, racking your chest. His eyes don’t leave your face and he doesn’t look down although you know that he knows you just pissed on yourself. Wavering on your feet, you can’t look at him anymore and you lower your eyes.

“Look at me,” he commands and when you can’t, he takes a menacing step towards you forcing your attention back up to analyze his vacant expression. He takes yet another step forward until he’s directly in front of you and then he reaches out, his arms wrapping around your waist like a deadly boa. He’s wearing a vest under his shirt right now, you can feel it and it makes you nervous for what may come. Your chest meets his and a strong hand comes up pressing your aching head into his shoulder.

“Crybaby,” he whispers almost inaudibly.

His dark and raspy voice sounds like the Erik you’ve come to know, but it’s tainted by what you’ve experienced. He’d hit you, cut your face, and made you pee on yourself. He is dangerous to you and this is probably part of his game. Immediately, you regret thinking that you could happily let him use you if this is what it entails. You try to pull away, but his arms keep you locked against him.

“Yeka. Andiyi kukulimaza. They moved from the hall but ther’re are cameras in here. I had to do what I did to you or they wouldn’t buy what I told them. You alive right now, ain’t you? Means you still with me. Ndinawe.”

There’s absolutely no sympathy in his voice or regret, only an intense urgency that says there are bigger issues at hand. He grips your bun firmly, but not painfully.

“Now I’m a take you outside that door and I need you to stay calm. If they ask you where you’re leading me, tell them you’re taking me to ‘Brit’s apartment’. This blade was hidden so it’s possible that more vibranium could be stashed there and I missed it. Tell'em that.”

Peeling himself away from you, he steps back and pulls his knife back out pointing it at the door to the right.

“Walk,” he commands, eyes frigid. You move toward the door and he opens it, nodding for you to step into the halfway. You hear a few voices to the right but he pushes you to the left and you end up in the living room space you first walked into on arrival. Your two abductors sit casually on the couch and when they see you, their conversation halts.

“And just where do you think you’re going, sweetheart,” the American smiles so sadistically that it makes your stomach turn.

“Tha girl done gone and pissed herself,” Klaue howls in amusement, slapping the American’s arm. “Lookit! She done pissed herself,” he wheezes turning colors.

Erik shoves you forward roughly and you give them the line about where you’re going. Klaue’s laughter immediately ceases, amusement replaced by something much darker.

“Told ya fucks she knows where it is,” he mutters with eyes of demonic greed trained on you.

“Yeah, well, I’m finna find it like I said,” Erik interjects pushing you toward the door. You risk a peek back at the duo just in time to catch the gun in the American’s hand aimed at Erik’s head. Without thinking, you push Erik and as if reacting to the same threat, he pushes you forward and you fall through the door to the ground as he ducks behind you, pulling a well hidden gun from his pants to fire into the house.

You scuttle quickly to the parked yellow Lexus and it’s unlocked. Closing yourself inside, you pant and watch Erik walk back into the house closing the door behind him. Nervously, you wait. You don’t leave in your own car although you consider it. For some reason, you’d rather wait to see if Erik is okay. There were at least four people in that house, and you’d be willing to bet that they were all armed. You pray silently for him to pull through, even if only for your own selfish reasons. Amazingly, you feel safer with him than without him. The seconds turn into minutes as you watch the house and you duck down as the front door opens preparing for the worst.

Erik emerges from the home with blood spattered on his arms and face. He brings a black garbage bag with him and tosses it in the backseat before dropping down behind the wheel.

“There goes the fuckin clean up crew,” he groans angrily. “I left a damn mess now we gotta go.” He starts the car and pulls off. You don’t even ask where he’s going at this point. You gulp and he sniffs the air.

“Shit. We gotta get you out of these pissy clothes and into a shower.” He finally looks at you and his eyes soften like before. He reaches for your hand and hesitantly, you let him take it up to his lips where he holds it. His lips are warm.

“Maybe if you’re good, I’ll do what I did to you this morning,” the corner of his mouth twitches in the semblance of a smile and you release the breath you’ve been holding. You roll down the window for fresh air, but then that black bag rolling about in the backseat.. it disturbs you.

“What’s in the–”

“Look in it if you bold,” he dares and with a hesitant glance between him and the bag in the backseat, you pull it towards you. It’s fairly heavy. Glancing inside you’re confused, but then a solid chill plucks at your spine. The familiar smell of death fills the air and you close the bag and put it back like you found it. The amputated arm that you recognize as Klaue’s and his head.

“Now that I’ve killed my fuckin crew for you, Y/N..,” he faces you for emphasis as you fall back into your seat, but this time he’s not threatening. “I’m really gonna need you to step up and be a big girl. Tell me everything you an J'Kobi discussed when you were little and all the places he took you including where you lived. I don’t care how silly or personal or inconsequential it seems. I need to know everything. Can you do that for me?”

“If I say no,” you test. You needed to know how far he’d go. He sighs.

“If you say no, you just say no.. but I’m still gone look and I won’t stop asking. You might as well say you’ll help me. Keep in mind, this is for black people everywhere… I just wanna free us, baby.”

It’s a dilemma you’ve been stuck in since you’ve been dragged into the presence of this intense and murderous man. Do you trust him? You asked him once if he’d kill you but if he hadn’t so far, maybe he wouldn’t.

“I’ll tell you what he told me. That’s all I can do,” you murmer and it seems to satisfy him.

“That’s all I ask.”

—

Yeka. Andiyi kukulimaza. = Stop. I won’t hurt you.

Ndinawe. = I’m with you.


End file.
